The Darkness and What Came After It
by Meg Harper
Summary: Commander Shepard was dead. Until she wasn't. Rising from the ashes of the Citadel, she returns to the galaxy with little more than a few misplaced memories and a broken leg. It is with the help of Garrus Vakarian, her old friend and lover, that she realizes what it really means to overcome darkness. Post Reaper War, Post Extended Cut.
1. What Came After

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Right, so I started playing the Mass Effect games a few weeks ago and didn't expect to be completely enamoured with them, but, hey, what can you do? I finished the third game last week and was utterly heartbroken about what happened to my Shepard. And then I got the Extended Cut, which was a whole lot better. Anyway, this is what I liked to think would have happened post EC. It's gonna be sad, y'all.

_Wake up, Shepard._

Her eyes snapped open, her lungs screamed for air. She gasped, her mouth filling with the taste of soot and blood. Darkness pressed in on all sides. Something heavy and metal pinned her leg to the scorched earth. She couldn't move, she could scarcely see, and there was an awful pounding in the back of her head, but she was _alive_. Alive.

But hadn't she…

Shepard groaned. Her brain throbbed with the weight of memory. Splintered visions of what happened before the fall flashed in front of her like cruel mirages. She saw a man, a broken man, the serenity on his face as they looked out upon their dying home, their home he so desperately believed she could win back. _You did good, child_.

She saw a woman, her eyes blue as Earth's sky, her skin just as lovely. What was her name? L…Laura…Leandra? No, that wasn't it. Li…Li…_How would you like to be remembered?_

Shepard closed her eyes. The woman disappeared. In her place stood the shadowy silhouette of another man. Or at least Shepard thought he was a man, even though he didn't look anything like the other one. He was all rough angles and lean, long limbs. His tall frame lingered on the edges of her subconscious, never straying too close. But he was always there, through the fall and the crash and the crushing, crushing silence. He was what kept her from drifting away into the void, urging her to return to him. He was the rock she clung to. The bright spot in her shadowy world.

_Come back alive._

When this was over and when she made it back to what was left of civilization, Shepard promised herself that she'd find that man, whoever he was, and she'd thank him. For everything.

_Wake up, Shepard._

The commander did as she was commanded. She woke up. She might not have known who the woman was or who the tall man was or who the first man was, but what Shepard did know was that she had to get out of this smoking rubble. Drawing in a deep, burning breath, she wrenched her hands from out their hidden places amongst the debris and braced the nearest piece of scrap metal, pushing up as hard as she could.

The metal moaned and popped, its jagged edges biting into the skin of her palms. Shafts of light began filtering in through the cracks, getting bigger and bigger as Shepard pushed. How strange it was to see something other than darkness. She was so close. All she had to do now was free her leg. She decided that the best course of action was the one unseen. Knowing how mangled her leg was wouldn't make it any better. Hell, it probably would just make things worse.

Biting her lip, she fastened her hands around her bloodied thigh and pulled. Pain thrilled, flesh ripped, ash crumbled. She pulled and she pulled and she pulled and then, finally…Release. Numbness, calming and cool, spread throughout her injured leg. Shepard sighed. Numbness wasn't good. She'd pay for her messy extraction methods later. For now, she had wreckage to escape.

Squinting against the light, Shepard hoisted herself up through the chasm she'd made, emerging from her resting place like a long dead god. She gasped. Her cramped little world had just gotten a whole lot bigger. Unfolding all around her was some sort of garden planet, made obvious by the towering trees and bright green leaves. A warm wind tousled her hair and the air felt salty on her tongue. The familiar sound of water smashing against the coast drifted in through the tangled vegetation.

Where was she?

Shepard stumbled to the ground, still clutching her wounded leg. Her good leg did little to stabilize her. Her muscles, having been relaxed for so long, had weakened considerably. Her arms ached every time she moved them and her hands were riddled with fresh scrapes. The ache in her head persisted, intensifying when the light hit her just right.

But all these physical ailments could not even begin to amount to the emptiness she felt. Try as she may, Shepard could not recall the name of the blue skinned woman or her solemn sentinel. She could not remember what came after "Commander" or before "Shepard." What she did remember was death, destruction, agony, a child that glowed like the galaxy itself.

And she remembered a choice: Destroy, control, synthesis…Refusal.

It was easy to tell what she picked.

The giant exoskeleton of some massive metal _thing_ sprawled behind her in blackened heaps. Shepard had no idea what it was. The results of her choice? She supposed it didn't matter anymore. The structure was damaged beyond repair.

Whispering a faint goodbye to the place she called home for God only knew how long, Shepard found herself staggering through the forest, toward the crashing waves. She had to see…She had to know…

Progress was slow. She shambled into the heart of the jungle, completely ignorant of what might've awaited her inside. Truth be told, she didn't care. She didn't wake up from a nightmarish coma just to get eaten by some alien animal. She'd fight whatever came her way, weakness be damned. She had to get to that ocean. She had to _see…_

The forest eventually thinned out to reveal a beach, an endless stretch of blinding white sand. Shepard leaned against the nearest tree, pausing to absorb the sand, the ocean, the cloudless sky. She let the noise of the water drown her, the pull and the push of the waves. It was a beautiful sound.

Even more beautiful was how the water felt as she collapsed into it. Her burnt armor melted away into the blue, the blood faded from her hands and legs. The waves crashed over her head, soaking her hair and stinging her eyes, cleansing her of the devastation of the past. Yet, as she arose from the tide, Shepard did not feel cleansed. She felt…

Broken.

She _looked_ broken.

She stared down at her distorted reflection, not quite recognizing the face that stared back. Dark brown hair that swished at her shoulders, burnt at the tips. Indigo eyes. Corpse-pale skin. This woman couldn't be _her_…This woman looked _dead_, and she…She wasn't dead.

Naked and shivering, Shepard turned away from the corpse in the water and looked back to the beach. Perhaps she'd return to the wreckage to look for supplies. Clothes, food, anything help her surprise. Or perhaps…Perhaps she'd stay here. In the ocean. Let the waves take her some place quiet, some place where she'd never have to see the dead reflection ever again…

_Come back alive._

There was that voice again. _His_ voice. The tall man, murmuring in her ear. _An order for you…_

That was when she decided. She had to go back. If not for herself, for him. He'd done so much…It would have been unfair to repay him with her death. She had to get out of this water, she had to get off of this planet, and she had to find him.

No matter what.

Shepard made it to the sand when she heard a peculiar noise. A far off roaring she somehow associated with safety. The roaring got louder. Shepard looked up. Streaking across the sky was a ship, a slender cruiser painted in black. Awestruck, she watched as it thundered overhead, zooming into space at incredible speeds.

Maybe if she'd gotten closer, maybe if she'd climbed a tree, maybe if she found a cliff to stand on, she would have seen it, written on the hull of the ship…

NORMANDY, SR-2.

Instead, Shepard stumbled back down the path from whence she came, back toward the forest, back toward the wreckage, back toward the darkness.


	2. Vakarian Without Shepard

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Howdy, y'all! First off, I wanted to thank everyone for all the positive feedback thus far! I really appreciate it. Secondly, I wanted to say that this chapter has some...coarse language in it. Thirdly, I wanted to say that this chapter, in addition to coarse language, is one of the most depressing things I've ever written. Bluh. Enjoy. I hope.

_You'll never be alone._

"Vakarian, right?" The young man asked. He glanced down at his datapad, frowning a little. "I was told to give you total access to the Commander's things, but it says here that only members of the immediate family are allowed to—"

A flush of anger burned through Garrus's body. This kid didn't understand. No one did. They extended their sympathies and told him how sorry they were, repeated the same tired words he'd heard time and time again, as though doing so would somehow console him. _She was an amazing woman. She gave her life to save us all._ _There will never be another Commander Shepard._

No. There wouldn't be. And that was the part that hurt the most.

"They're dead." Garrus said flatly. "Shepard's family. You would have known that if you paid attention to the news feeds."

That hurt, too. Every bit of Shepard's life, personal or otherwise, was being broadcasted across the galaxy for all to see. The reporters painted a picture of a martyr, a saint who arose from the slums of Earth to stop the Reaper threat against all odds, even if that meant sacrificing herself to do so. Commander Shepard _was_ a hero. No one could deny that. What irked Garrus was that he knew the truth. He knew _Shepard_. He knew she didn't see herself as the goddess the reports made her out to be. She didn't want immortality. She wanted peace. She wanted an end.

This media frenzy wasn't an end. It was a bunch of people lunging for Shepard's coattails. After everything she'd done, didn't Shepard deserve to rest?

The color drained from the man's cheeks. His mask of Alliance-given authority faltered. He was a human being corrected by a turian about another human. A very famous human at that. Oh, the shame. He pressed something on his datapad and lifted his eyes to meet Garrus's. "You served on the Normandy with the Commander?"

"From the very beginning." Garrus answered, taking a small step toward the still locked doors. He seized the man's arm, yanking him forcibly from his post. "Since you seem to have a hearing problem, I'll explain this as clearly as I can. Listen closely. I don't like repeating myself."

The man nodded, visibly terrified.

"Shepard was _everything_ to me." Garrus's voice adopted a harsh, hard tone. He'd been burying his agony for the last six months and now it was starting to rear its ugly head. This Alliance officer was only trying to do his job. It was unfair of Garrus to blame all his troubles on him, but he did it anyway. He couldn't help it. He was _furious_. He was so, so furious. "She was everything to me and now she's _dead_. The only things I've got left of her are sitting beyond this door and you've got the god damn nerve to tell me I can't go in? Do you know what it's like? Do you know what it's like to lose someone you love—not once, but twice? Do you know how that feels?"

The officer shook his head, his eyes wide. Wrong answer.

It took every single shred of self-control Garrus had to keep from blowing this kid's brains back against the wall. He wanted to make this insolent little bastard feel as badly as he did. He wanted this kid to know the pain he knew. He wanted someone to _understand_, to really understand, not just pretend like they did.

_This isn't you, Garrus._

There it was again. _Her_ voice. It made him pause, it made him think. _This isn't you, Garrus._ She that on Omega, when he let his demons get the better of him the first time. She was right then and she was right now. This wasn't him, yelling at innocent people, fantasizing about putting bullets between their eyes.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Garrus released the man and stepped back. Rage still burned wild within him—Garrus suspected it always would—but he no longer had the desire to commit a murder. It was a start, he supposed.

"I'm—I'm sorry." He murmured, talons scratching his palms. "I just…"

The doors swished open. The officer gestured inside.

"You're clear." He said. "Take all the time you need."

Garrus blinked. "Thank you."

"No problem. And Vakarian?"

Garrus stood in the doorway, looking out upon the small, nondescript cabin that served as Shepard's makeshift quarters during her brief stay on Earth, weeks before the Reapers attacked. The rest of the Alliance base was being rebuilt. This room was one of the few places that survived intact.

He didn't move. He couldn't. Not yet. "Yeah?"

The young man shifted on the periphery of Garrus's vision. "I know what it's like. To lose someone. My mom died here on Earth when the Reapers—My sister, too. They're…"

"Gone." Garrus finished for him. The Reaper War affected billions upon billions of people, both humans and aliens alike. There wasn't a single soul in the galaxy that hadn't lost someone. It was easy to forget when grief clutched you so tightly that you could scarcely breathe without feeling its sting. "I'm sorry."

That was all they could say to one another. "I'm sorry." It sounded cheap. Two words could never atone for the lives that'd been lost, but it was all they had…That, and silence. The kind of silence that bonded two beings together in immeasurable sadness.

"I would say it's okay, but it isn't." The haughty young boy with too much power and too much pride was gone. He wasn't an officer of the Alliance anymore. He was just a man, a child, really. A child who lost too much and knew too little. "It's never going to be okay, is it?"

"No," Garrus said. He crossed the threshold into Shepard's cabin. Her meager possessions were stacked in three separate boxes arranged neatly on a table in the middle of the room. Something pulled in his chest. This was it. This was all he had left.

"It isn't."

The first box contained an assortment of things—medals Shepard had received over the years, Alliance emblems—nothing too exciting. Garrus was about to give up on it completely when he saw a glimmer of something metal at the bottom. Curious, he picked it up. Dog tags. They clicked and dangled from their silver chain. The first one contained all of Shepard's vital information: Her name, her social security number, her blood type…

The second was different. Instead of displaying Shepard's info again, it…It had _his._ VAKARIAN, GARRUS. He wasn't Alliance. He wasn't a Marine. Then why did Shepard…

Then it hit him like a merc's gun to the face.

"There's no Shepard without Vakarian." Garrus realized. He ran a finger over the conjoined tags, letting Shepard's voice fill his head.

_You'll never be alone._

He moved onto the next box. This one was much bigger than the first. Resting atop one of Shepard's many Alliance uniforms was what appeared to be a hologram projector. It was a small white cube with a single black button. Within its cramped confines resided a number of possibilities. Both terrified and excited about what the projector protected, Garrus put the tiny cube on the floor and pressed the button.

A full color version of the Normandy SR-1's crew appeared in front of him, exactly as it was in life. Everyone was there. Himself, Tali, Liara, Kaiden, Ashley, Wrex, Dr. Chakwas, even Joker…And then, standing directly at the center of it all, was Shepard. Garrus's breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. He never told her so at first, as he was reluctant to break the rigid chain of command. The more time he spent with her, the more he saw just how wonderful the famed Commander Shepard really was…

The less reluctant he became. It got to the point where he decided not to give a damn, to follow his instincts. And his instincts screamed for Shepard.

"Next," he told the projector.

The Normandy SR-2's crew appeared. Miranda, Jacob, Grunt, Thane, Samara, Jack, Legion, Mordin, Tali, Shepard, and, yet again, himself. Instead of standing at the end of the line like he had in the first hologram, Garrus had chosen a spot beside Shepard. She had the smallest of smiles on her lips, her hands clasped behind her back. He looked straight toward the camera.

"Next."

The SR-2's crew again, but this time, the overall posture was relaxed. Miranda and Jacob looked as though they were talking to one another. Tali waved to Legion. Mordin was studying his omni-tool. Jack had her arms crossed over her chest, her expression predictably pissed off. Thane remained stoic and empty eyed and Grunt looked like he was about to walk away.

Then there was Garrus and Shepard, stuck in the middle. Garrus remembered this moment, this moment the hologram captured so perfectly. He remembered Shepard, her small smile being directed up at him.

"_Some family photo, huh?" She said._

_Garrus laughed. "I dunno, it seems appropriate. Someone needs to pinch Jack, get her a little more pissed off. Then it'll really be authentic."_

"_Fuck off, Vakarian." Jack sniped back._

_Shepard sighed, rested her head on his upper arm (she was a bit too short to reach his shoulder). "I don't think that'd be wise, Garrus."_

"_I never claimed to be wise," he replied quietly. He loved the feeling of Shepard's skin against. She was so soft, so lovely. "Only exceptionally talented. And stylish. And attractive."_

Shepard's smile widened to a grin. That must have been when the projector flashed, because that's what the hologram captured. Her grin. That was one of the only times Garrus had ever truly seen her smile. And that smile, that rare twitch of her lips, was all for him.

"Next." Garrus could barely bring himself to say the word. He wanted to live in that hologram, he wanted to jump within its folds of light and stay there forever. He wanted to see Shepard smile again. He wanted…he wanted…he wanted too much.

The hologram vanished. In its place was a fourth and final image. Liara, Ashley, Cortez, Traynor, Joker, EDI, Chakwas, Tali, James, himself, and Shepard. Shepard's smile had gone away. There were dark circles underneath her blueish eyes and her brown hair hung limp at her shoulders. She looked exhausted. So did he. So did everyone, really.

It was a…fresh memory. He didn't like it.

"Close."

The projector shut off.

Garrus moved onto the last box on the table. He sifted through its contents like a synthetic. Mechanically and numbly. Nothing of import. Grabbing the dog tags, he slipped the chain around his neck and tucked the tags beneath his armor. He couldn't stay in this room anymore.

"Find anything?" The Alliance officer asked when Garrus exited.

"No," Garrus lied. He walked back down the dimly lit corridor, hands clenched at his sides. He didn't want to share what he found in Shepard's cabin. Those memories were his…and his alone.


	3. Memories

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_This chapter regresses in time a little bit. It goes back about three months before the events of the second chapter. The next chapter will be normal, I promise. Read the end note if you're confused!

The ship found her seven days later.

Time passed by in a blur. Shepard spent these far flung hours rummaging through wreckage, searching for food, regaining her strength, anything to keep from thinking too much. She found a half charred Alliance uniform hidden underneath a heap of blackened scrap metal and put it on, grateful for the cover, even if it was a bit…ashy. The wreckage yielded little else.

Her leg fared no better. There were good days and there were bad days, though the bad days outnumbered the good. Pain was a part of her now; it weaved between her muscles and buried itself in her bones. It infected her thoughts and poisoned her blood. Sometimes, when the fever set in, she'd settle down on the beach and listen to the crashing of the waves, let the salty wind cool her burning cheeks.

It wasn't so terrible, being stranded and alone. All the weight that'd been piled on her for so many years was finally gone. She wasn't Commander Shepard here. She was simply…lost. Feverish, probably dying, and lost. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to be lost. But the chances of getting off this planet were slim. She knew that. She'd gotten lucky before. So extraordinarily lucky. Now? Shepard had her doubts.

She buried her fingers in the sand and began her daily regimen. "Liara T'soni. David Anderson. Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. Kaiden Alenko. Ashley Williams. Urdnot Wrex. Grunt. Mordin Solus. Legion. Jeff Moreau. EDI. Samara. Miranda Lawson. Jacob Taylor…"

She struggled with the last name. It lingered on the tip of her tongue like a forgotten dream, fleeting and intangible. Every time she thought she remembered, the name would fade and she'd be left as ignorant as before. The rest of them were much easier to recall. Days would pass and new memories would surface.

Liara asking Shepard how she would like to be remembered, Anderson's smile as he told her how proud he was, Mordin's songs, Jeff's jokes. It was all falling back into place…Except for the last one. The tall man. The angular one. He was a stranger to her, though she knew he shouldn't be. He was _something_ to her. Someone important.

Her head spun with the fever's heat. What was his name?

"G-Ga—Garret? No, that's not it." Shepard sighed. Why did this have to be so hard? She brought her knees to her chest and rested her aching head in her arms. Darkness rippled on the periphery of her vision. She needed sleep, but she didn't want it. It brought up too many unwanted memories. Akuze, abandoning Earth, the boy who refused her help, the atrocities on Sanctuary. Awful things.

But when the shadows of rest began to swallow her up, Shepard did not dream of Akuze or the boy or Sanctuary…She dreamed of _him_.

"_I've never told anyone this before, but…I figured someone should know. Just in case I need it engraved on my tombstone after all this is said and done."_

"_What's the matter?" He asked lightly. "Do you have an extra toe? A deadly, turian-specific disease I should be worried about?"_

"_Damn. You caught me." She felt herself smile. He always made her smile. Even at times like these. She tucked her hair behind her ear. It was a nervous gesture. She'd been doing it a lot lately. She hoped he hadn't noticed. "But, ah…No. No extra toes, no disease."_

_Inside, this part of the Normandy was quiet. Outside, however, was a completely different story. Saren was planning something horrific here on Virmire. Something she dared not think about in any great detail. All she knew was that she had to stop him. Whatever the cost._

"_Something else, then?" He prompted. "Now you've got me curious. Who knew the great Commander Shepard had a deep, dark secret?"_

_She laughed. "I don't know if you'd call it that. It's actually pretty boring."_

"_You're the farthest thing from boring, Shepard. Believe me, I know boring. I worked at C-Sec. And you…You couldn't be boring if you tried."_

_She had no idea his words would have such a powerful effect on her. What he said wasn't exactly a compliment, but the way he said it…Quiet, soft…like it was something intimate. She cleared her throat. "Thanks. I think."_

"_Anytime." He said. And she knew he meant it._

"_My name isn't really Charlie." She confessed, gaze falling to her lap. "Well, it is, but that's not all. It's uh…Charlotte. Charlotte Shepard."_

_He shifted in his seat, draping his arm across the top of the couch. His blue, blue eyes glimmered with amusement. "Really?"_

"_Really. I haven't been called Charlotte for years. Pretty sure I punched the last guy who called me it. I was fifteen. Angry…You know how teenagers are."_

"_Ouch. I take it I'm next? Now that I know this life changing secret of yours? Just do me a favor and leave my face alone. It's too pretty to be punched like that."_

"_I'm not going to punch you." She said. "Actually, I take that back. I might, if you abuse this power you've been given."_

"_I'd never, Commander. I swear on my honor as a turian. And that's a pretty big deal, mind you. We turians take our honor very, very seriously."_

"_Glad to hear it." It was freakishly easy to open up to him and it was equally as easy to smile around him, to laugh. He didn't treat her like a commander. He treated her like a friend. "But, I tell you what. I'll give you one chance. To use your newfound power. One. That's it."_

"_Only one? Well, I'll have to use my chance wisely, then."_

"_You'd better."_

_The Normandy lurched. The cabin's doors swished open. Shepard jumped to her feet. Standing in the doorway was Ashley, a rifle in her hands. She glanced at two of them, eyes narrowing. "Commander," she muttered. "We're getting ready to land."_

"_Thank you, Williams." Shepard said stiffly. _

_Ashley nodded. She exited the cabin without another word._

_Shepard blew out a breath, irked by Ashley's suspicion. She'd gotten better with time, but she disliked most of the aliens onboard. Especially the turian._

"_Guess it's time to go." He said, standing up. "Be careful out there, Shepard. Saren's a real bastard."_

_Shepard turned to face him, a wry smile on her lips. "I'm not going alone, Garrus. You're coming with me."_

"_Again?" He mused. "Here I thought I was going to get a break."_

"_Not quite yet. You've got to put up with me for just a little bit longer. Sorry."_

"_Don't apologize. I think I like putting up with you. You're a lot more pleasant than most of the people I had to deal with before."_

_Shepard grinned. "I think I like putting up with you, too."_

* * *

She awoke with a gasp. Garrus. That was his name. Garrus. She repeated it to herself over and over again, scared that if she didn't, she'd forget it and he'd be lost to her again. Garrus. He was the man from her fall, he was the man who occupied her silence. All that time…

_Come back alive._

A great sense of comfort blanketed Shepard, then. Garrus. She knew him. Better yet, she _remembered_ him. She didn't remember all of him, but that dream was only the beginning. It'd take time—a lot of it—to remember everything. But at least she had this. This single memory of one man, one woman, and one boring secret.

Feeling better than she had in days, Shepard managed to get to her feet. The muscles in her bad leg twitched. Blood oozed from the gaping wound that slashed across her ankle. Her hair was matted and her lips were chapped, but she felt…good.

As she hobbled away from the beach, the familiar whirring noise she'd heard when she first arose ripped across the sky. Another ship? Shepard's stomach gave a squeeze. If it really was another ship and if she could somehow signal it, then she'd be able to get off this damn planet and see Garrus again. She'd see _everyone_ again. The possibility made her frantic.

She shambled as fast as she could back to the shoreline. There weren't any trees here, so it would be easier for her to get the ship's attention. The whirring got louder. Shepard's heart slammed hard and quick against her chest. She was prepared to do anything she had to to signal the ship, and then…Flying just above the treeline, was a shuttle.

It wasn't nearly as large as the first ship was. It didn't look as high tech, either. It was a simple boxy looking vessel painted in blue and white, a peculiar A symbol imprinting the hull. Shepard's fractured mind recognized it instantly. Alliance.

The Alliance was coming to save her.

_**END NOTE: **_ Right, so this chapter takes place a week after the events of the first chapter and three months before the events of the second. Does that make sense? I hope it does. I was just going to begin this chapter with Shepard going back to Earth, but I felt like you guys needed to see a little bit of what happened after Shepard woke up so it's not quite as jarring when she gets back to Earth. And I wanted to add in a little…memory recognition. Enjoy! Garrus is up next!


	4. Four Letter Word

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE:_ **Since Garrus's last chapter was way, way depressing, here's a slightly happier one. Enjoy! And thanks so much for all the follows and reviews and favorites! It's really encouraging!

Her name was Johanna Holt and her parents died three days after the Reapers invaded Earth. Her hair was the color of sunlight and her eyes as green as the grass they stood on. She barely came up to his waist, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in sheer presence. She was forceful when she needed to be and she was compassionate at times no one would have been otherwise. She was his right hand girl, his constant companion. It was hard to believe she was only thirteen years old.

She reminded him of Shepard.

"Everyone's gotten their rations for the day." Johanna reported. She had scabs on her knees and bruises on her arms. The girl spent too much time breaking up fights and not enough time being a kid. It wasn't fair. Then again, life wasn't fair for any of these poor kids. Being an orphan was tough. Knowing most of them probably watched their parents get decimated by a giant, malignant machine made it even worse.

"What about you?" Garrus asked, scanning the crowd for disturbances. Babysitting a bunch of pissed off little kids wasn't exactly a job everyone wanted to take, but he volunteered for it the moment he stepped off the Normandy. They landed on Earth first, as the majority of the crew was human. Garrus didn't mind. It was nice to have familiar ground under his feet. They'd spent three months on that foreign planet. That strange, strange place. Three more months trying to get back to what once was Citadel Space.

Everyone cheered when the Normandy entered Sol. That was one week ago. Exactly.

Johanna bobbed her head. "Yeah, I ate."

Garrus wasn't convinced. Johanna had a tendency to lie about her eating habits. "Are you sure?"

She sighed. "Yes, Garrus. I'm positively positive that I ate today."

"Just checking." He placed a hand on her head, ruffling her hair. "You should get some rest. I'll take over from here."

Johanna smiled. She pushed Garrus's hand away without a hint of malice. She pretended to be annoyed with him and he pretended to be annoyed with her. It was a game they played, a coping mechanism. Garrus pretended to be her parent and she pretended to be his irritated daughter. Though he had a feeling she wasn't pretending this time. Kids never liked it when their parents were too pushy. Garrus knew that from experience.

"Are you sure?" She echoed his earlier question.

"Positively positive." He replied.

"Well, if you say so." Johanna scurried off to join her fellow orphans, making sure to offer him a small salute before leaving.

_She hasn't eaten today._ Garrus realized. She only ran off that quickly if she skipped her rations. He'd have to watch her more closely next time. Sighing, the turian began his rounds. This "recovery facility" was just one of many that'd cropped up since the Reapers were defeated. Just as he predicted to Shepard before the final battle, there were a lot of parentless kids running around. Not only on Earth, but across the galaxy. It was a heartbreaking reality.

He checked the Hub first. The Hub, once an asari embassy, served as shelter for the younger kids. Half of its roof had been blown off and the white walls were spattered with blood, blood that, no matter how hard they scrubbed, wouldn't come off. It was a constant reminder of everything these kids had lost. As if they needed any more reminding.

Two rows of cots lined each side of the building, tapering off where the roof ended. The aisle in the middle was filled with tables. Each table was used for something different. One was covered in medical supplies, another stacked with clothes donated by those who had enough to spare. The one at the end was where Johanna sat, surrounded by her friends. She stuffed a sandwich in her mouth, laughing at something the girl across from her said.

Seeing Johanna laugh bolstered Garrus's confidence a little, made him believe that, one day, things would get better. They had to. With the Reapers gone, there was nothing standing in the galaxy's way. The road to recovery was long and bumpy, but it'd be worth it in the end. It had to be.

Garrus, satisfied with how things were going in the Hub, went to check on the older kids. Teenagers, mostly. They slept outside in crashed shuttles or makeshift tents. Suitable shelter was hard to come by around here. The Reapers hit this particular metropolis with an unusual amount of force. Garrus assumed it was because this was where Shepard was staying. Damn Reapers and their inability to let go of a grudge.

So Shepard killed a few of them singlehandedly and foiled their plot to destroy every single organic life in the galaxy. That was no reason to decimate entire planets.

"Hey, Vakarian!" A boy's voice wrenched Garrus from his thoughts. "Over here!"

A brown haired kid Garrus recognized as Henry Marshall waved at him from his place outside his tent. Though he'd only been helping out a week, the kids in this "recovery center" all knew Garrus by name. Apparently he'd been elevated to celebrity status after being part of the crew that stopped the Reapers. Or maybe they just recognized him because he was one of the only turians here. The rest of them went back to Palaven.

"Henry." Garrus said upon approaching the young man. "Need something?"

Henry nodded, his hair flopping into his eyes. "Yeah, uhm…Listen, have you ever, uh…"

Garrus waited. He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going.

"Have you ever…You know…" Henry fidgeted, acting as though whatever he had to say next caused him physical pain. "Been in love?"

Ignoring the sharp pang in his gut, Garrus said, "Yes. Once."

Henry looked relieved. "Oh. Well, how…How did you tell the person that…"

"That I loved them?" Garrus put in helpfully. He had no idea why Henry was coming to him for romantic advice. These kids came to him for all manner of assistance, but romance was a new one. Henry must've been desperate.

"Yeah." The boy said. "How did you do that?"

Garrus paused to think up a good lie. He couldn't tell Henry the truth because he didn't want to hear the truth himself. He'd told Shepard he loved her in London after getting badly injured by Harbinger. She forced him on the Normandy and ran off to die for the good of the galaxy. Alone. Not exactly an encouraging story.

"I stopped giving a damn," Garrus decided. "I stopped giving a damn about everything else around me for just that one moment. And I told her. She needed to know and I needed to tell her."

"Did she say she loved you back?" Henry asked.

_No matter what happens here, I'll always love you._

"Yes." Garrus said. "She did. Thankfully."

Henry's face screwed up in confusion. "So, what you're saying is that I should stop giving a damn what other people think?"

_Oh, spirits._ Garrus thought. _What the hell am I doing?_

"More or less."

"Okay," Henry muttered. "I think I can—"

The shuttle blasted into the atmosphere just then, a blue and white ship bearing the Alliance crest. Garrus checked his omni-tool. There weren't any drop offs scheduled for today. Supply shuttles had specific time slots to land in. They couldn't fly in whenever they wanted to because they often carried tons of rations, rations that had to be unloaded by an army of people. Garrus didn't have an army today. It was just him and a few officers.

The shuttle didn't land at the Hub, however. It landed on a patch of grass near the city council building, a tall white structure that had been under construction for the last three months. It was nearing completion while no less than one hundred orphans were sleeping in tents. Garrus hated that stupid place.

"What's going on?" Henry wondered as a group of people ran from the council building to meet the shuttle.

From Garrus's vantage point, they looked like a bunch of little ants scurrying across the road. He reached back and grabbed his sniper rifle, bringing the scope to his eye, following the diplomats as they moved. Henry gasped.

"Whoa, that's a big gun."

"Yeah, don't ever use them." Garrus murmured. "They're bad for your health."

"What are they doing?" Henry asked.

That was a good question. Garrus didn't know how to answer it. The shuttle door opened, he saw that much. Just what (or who) stepped out of it was a complete mystery, thanks to the swelling crowd. They swarmed the shuttle like a pack of enthusiastic bees.

Garrus lowered his rifle. "I don't know. It's probably just some politician flying in. Nothing to get excited about, I'm sure."

Henry's shoulders slumped. "Aw, that sucks. We could use a little excitement around here. The good kind."

"Yeah," Garrus agreed. "We could."

"Oh, crap." Henry said suddenly. He dove back into his tent. "Here she comes! Don't tell her what we were talking about, okay?"

Confused, Garrus turned to see which "she" Henry was referring to. Blond hair. Green eyes. Johanna. _Well, well._ Garrus thought. _Henry's aiming high. Good for him._

"Hey, Garrus!" Johanna bounded over to him. "Have you seen Henry anywhere?"

Garrus shook his head. He was feeling charitable today. "Not yet. But I'm sure he'll turn up soon."

"Yeah," she said. "I guess so. Have you seen what's going on at the council building? I heard from Alyssa that the shuttle is carrying some…Really important cargo."

"Important cargo, huh?" Garrus said. "Maybe it's some brandy. I haven't had a good brandy in a long, long time."

"I don't think so." Johanna replied. "Alyssa said something about it being a person. Must be a really, _really_ important person."

Garrus remained silent. He could only think of one person who deserved this amount of ruckus.

And she was dead.


	5. Welcome Home

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_A much happier chapter this time. I feel like you guys deserve it after all the angst I've put you through. Oh, and don't forget to check out The Darkness and What Came Before It! It's an ongoing series of smaller stories that ties in with this one, detailing what happened to Charlie and Garrus and the rest of the crew before the Reapers attacked. Enjoy this chapter and thanks as always for reading.

She remembered Earth as it was before: Burning, bloody, broken. This new Earth was as foreign to her as the planet she'd been rescued from. The grass was growing, green as summer. The cloudless blue sky stretched overhead, punctuated by a yellow burst of sun. She squinted against it as she stepped off the shuttle. The second her boot touched the ground, a crowd of people swarmed her. Their hushed murmurs filled her ears, their hands reaching out to touch her as though she were some long forgotten relic for them to examine.

"Commander Shepard, how are you feeling?" One man shouted above the din. A million questions followed. How did she survive? What had she been doing? What was she going to do now that she was back on Earth?

"Alive," she answered the man, the ghost of a smile playing on her lips. "I feel alive."

The Alliance marines that delivered her home cleared a path for the Commander to enter a big, white building. She recognized this place. It was where she stood before the Citadel Council all those moons ago, urging them to act against the Reaper threat. They didn't listen and Earth was invaded mere minutes later.

Shepard pushed the memory away. Today was not a day for sadness. It was a cause for celebration. She was back. She was alive. And Earth was being rebuilt. What more could the Commander ask for? Well, she could think of one thing…

"In here, Commander." A marine said, motioning to a set of double doors.

Shepard followed his lead, stepping inside the building. She never could have guessed what happened next. They were waiting for her. Construction workers, government officials, long faced civilians—they stopped whatever they were doing and cheered. Thunderous applause erupted from every corner, every nook, every cranny.

Dumbfounded, Shepard stood there, flanked by her escort. All these people…They were here because of what she did, what millions of others helped her achieve. The sight nearly brought tears to her eyes. This euphoria of life made everything she'd done worth it. Everything, even dying (twice), was worth it. These people were worth it and so much more.

Though three months and one week on the shuttle helped heal her leg, the wound had festered long enough to become permanent. Shepard walked with a distinct limp, but she was determined to make the best of it. She wasn't a broken woman to these people. She was a hero and, damn it, she was going to act like it.

Shepard saluted the roaring audience. A reporter rushed over from the main lobby desk and shoved a microphone in Shepard's face.

"Is there anything you'd like to say, Commander?" The reporter asked.

One of Shepard's escort scowled, stepping between her and the reporter. "The Commander doesn't have time for a press conference right now. She's got to get to the medical—"

"No," Shepard said. "I'd like to say something."

The marine dared not question the woman who saved the galaxy. With a defeated nod, he moved aside. Smirking, the reporter gave Shepard the microphone. Shepard breathed in deep. Her public speaking skills had gotten a little rusty.

"Hello?" She muttered. Her voice boomed throughout the lobby. The crowd fell into an excited hush. Shepard squared her shoulders, striding to the middle of the room where she was sure everyone could see her. Hundreds of eyes watched, waited.

"You have no idea how good it is to see you again. All of you." She began. "There was a time when I thought I'd never…"

This wasn't going how she wanted it to. Sighing, Shepard tried again.

"Six months ago, when the Reapers invaded, I knew what I had to do. I had to do everything I could to stop them. And if that meant dying…I was okay with it. I was okay with dying, but I wasn't okay with seeing my people die. I wasn't okay with seeing turians or salarians or asari or batarians die. I wasn't okay with it, and neither were billions of others." The silence in the room reminded Shepard of the silence that followed her fall, the ethereal quiet that had consumed her for so long.

She pressed on. "So, when you see me, when you cheer for me…Remember yourselves. I didn't do what I did alone. I had help from every corner of the galaxy. Remember your sacrifices and remember those that gave their lives so that we could stand here today."

Shepard paused, eyes sweeping the crowd. _How much have these people lost?_ She wondered. _Too much. _"I don't know why I'm still here, and maybe I don't need to know…But I just…I wanted to let _you_ know, all of you…That I will continue to do everything I can to help the galaxy move forward. The Reapers were a test. A test that we, as a whole, passed. If we can pass that test, I believe we can do anything we set our minds to, so…Let's do it. Let's keep moving. Six months ago, the only direction we had to go was down. And now? We're rising up. And we're going to continue to rise up. For ourselves, for our children, for our dead, and for our future. Rise up, everyone. Rise up."

And they did. Everyone who was sitting down got to their feet and a shroud of noise cloaked Shepard in a feeling she hadn't experienced in months: Hope. It charged the air. It was seen on every face. Hope. They could win this next fight, they could overcome this next hurdle, and they could rise, better and stronger than before. Shepard believed that. These people believed that. And that, for now, was enough.

* * *

After her speech, Shepard was taken to the medical wing for a thorough examination. Her leg was fitted for a brace and she was given a fresh set of clothes, which consisted of a navy blue Alliance t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and some military issue boots. She couldn't remember the last time she'd worn something so casual. When she was done changing, the doctor—a stern looking woman who reminded Shepard of Chakwas—asked her a series of questions.

They were simple at first.

"What is your name?" The doctor asked.

"Charlie Shepard." The Commander replied.

"When were you born?"

"April 11th, 2154."

"What is your favorite color?"

"Blue."

Then they got harder.

"What happened on Akuze?"

"…People died. Everyone died. Except me."

"You were given a choice on Virmire. Can you remember that choice, Commander?"

"…I-…I had to—Alenko. Kaiden Alenko. He stayed behind. He was…a good man."

The doctor tapped something on her datapad. She eyed Shepard carefully. "You helped the quarians regain their homeworld of Rannoch. What happened to the geth?"

_Does this unit have a soul?_

Shepard's hands clenched in her lap. "They're gone. All of them."

Taking note of the Commander's distress, the doctor decided enough was enough and cleared Shepard for release on the condition that she return every week for "cerebral exercises." She had no choice but to agree.

After the speech and the examination and the questioning, Shepard was shown to her cabin. It was a small room, a familiar room with all the ordinary trappings any marine would get. A bed, a desk, a decently sized aquarium filled with brightly colored koi. She'd stayed here before the Reapers came, back when humanity suspected her of committing war crimes with Cerberus. Everything was the same, except something…something was different.

There was a table. With three boxes, each one filled with her personal effects. Old medals, uniforms, a framed photo of Kaiden. Sitting on the floor behind the table was another box, a little white cube with a button on top. A hologram projector.

Shepard pushed the button. Her eyes widened as a fully formed image of the Normandy SR-1's crew flickered to life. She remembered taking this. It was Joker's suggestion, and she was pretty sure he was only kidding when he said it, but the others seemed to like the idea…

"_Joker says we should do something to celebrate killing the Thorian." Shepard told the rest of the crew when they gathered in the communications room. "He said we should 'take a picture or something, so the rest of the galaxy will remember the badasses that saved an entire colony single handedly.'"_

"_I hated family photos when I was a kid." Ashley muttered._

"_I think it's a good idea," Kaiden said._

_Wrex scoffed. Liara nodded in agreement, as did Tali._

_Garrus leaned back in his chair. "I think we deserve to be remembered."_

"_Everyone does." Shepard said. She stood up. "I guess we've reached a consensus. We'll meet on the bridge at 0800 hours. Bring your happy faces, people. Dismissed."_

Back in the present, Shepard blinked the tears from her eyes. Joker hated her for taking his idea seriously. He complained when she told him to get up out of his chair and scowled when the projector flashed. She had been irritated with him then, but now…Shepard thanked every god she could think of that he suggested the picture. It was such a good memory, the hologram a window that peered into a simpler time.

Shepard sat down on the floor, crossing her legs.

"Next." She said. When the second image appeared, Shepard's smile was as wide as her hologram's.


	6. Shot In The Dark

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_Just gonna formally apologize for this chapter now. You'll find out why.

Garrus spent the remainder of his day as far away from that damn council building as possible. He didn't care about whatever big shot politician had arrived. He'd heard them cheering, all those people. It made him sick. Politicians were nothing but glorified liars. They didn't come here to help people. They came here to help themselves. They rose to the top on the backs of refugees and orphans and Garrus was sick of it. Things were supposed to be different. Not even a year ago, the galaxy had united to defeat a common enemy…But now that the Reapers were gone, the only thing people wanted to fight for were themselves.

The dream of a permanently unified populace died with Commander Shepard. Garrus was a fool for believing otherwise. He realized that now. Idealism was just one of his many faults. Caring too much about things he had no chance of changing was another. That didn't mean he was going to stop trying, however. These kids needed him and, in a way, he needed them. They represented the future, reminded him that, one day, he'd move on. He'd move on from Reapers and Archangel and…maybe even Shepard.

Garrus reached into his armor and pulled out the dog tags. There was no Shepard without Vakarian. Could there be a Vakarian without Shepard? She'd taught him so many things, was there for him when no one else was. She loved him. And he loved her. He loved her so much it hurt. It hurt to think about her, it hurt to remember her, it hurt to want her…Everything about her _hurt_ him. He just had to be that guy who resisted the constraints of his menial job, who ran off with a human commander on a ridiculous suicide mission, who accidentally fell in love with her through no fault of his own…

He just had to be _that_ guy.

He tucked the tags away. There was no point in dwelling in the past. Shepard was dead. Really dead. Moping about her loss wasn't going to bring her back. Loving her wasn't going to bring her back. She was dead. Dead. Dead. _Dead._

Garrus leaned back in his chair, staring up at Earth's night sky. It was beautiful here. Not nearly as warm as he would have liked it to be, but beautiful all the same. Stars scattered the black expanse like a mess of diamonds. The moon was suspended high above the horizon, a shining silver disc glowing down from the vast environs of space. The chilly autumnal wind brushed his skin and made him shiver. Winter would be arriving soon. He didn't have a tight grasp on Earth's seasons, but from what he'd heard, winter wasn't good. Especially now that shelter was scarce. Kids would be dying. And he'd have to be prepared for it.

Garrus saw everything from his makeshift "watchtower." The Hub had been closed up for the night and the younger children were asleep. The kids who had to sleep outside were safe in their tents or snug in their blankets. The perimeter was quiet. Maybe he'd be able to get some rest after all.

"Garrus!"

Damn. Spoke too soon.

The turian reluctantly opened his eyes, his visor flickering feebly. The music he synced to it had faded and the data feeds were running out. His muscles ached. He wanted to sleep.

"Gaaaarruuuussss!"

He leaned forward, groaning quietly. "What?"

Standing on the ground at the bottom of the watchtower was none other than Johanna. She'd been having trouble sleeping lately and Garrus suffered every side effect of her insomnia. In typical Johanna fashion, she began climbing up the ladder without his permission. Telling her not to do something was like telling Shepard not to do something. It only made her want to do it more. It would have been charming if it wasn't so damn inconvenient.

"Garrus!" Johanna huffed, pulling herself up onto the platform. "I've—I've got to tell you something!"

"You'd better get to telling, then." He muttered.

"Alyssa and I were watching that new vid about the Reapers on her mom's old datapad and when we got to the part where—"

Garrus held up a hand. "Whoa, now, Holt. Don't spoil the entire thing for me. I haven't—"

Johanna scowled. "This is serious! Anyway, Alyssa and I were watching the vid and when the Reapers swooped down, we heard a _noise_."

"A _noise_?" He gasped. "On a vid? I can't believe it. No way."

"Garrus!" Johanna gave him a smack on the shoulder. "We heard a noise! A scary noise! And you know how those one guys were trying to steal all our stuff when you first got here? And you got really mad and shot them? It sounded like that. We thought we heard voices."

Yeah, he remembered. It wasn't exactly his finest moment, killing a half a dozen looters in front of a crowd of young kids…But if he hadn't done anything, those kids would have lost tons of valuable resources. Judging by Johanna's rapid fire explanation, the same thing might've been happening again. It was definitely worth an investigation.

"Alright, I'll check it out."

* * *

Once he'd seen Johanna safely back to bed, Garrus began his sweep of the facility. He worked his way around the Hub, rifle in hand, stepping quietly so that he didn't wake any of the building's patrons. He weaved through the rows of tents behind it and came full circle to his watchtower. Nothing. No voices, no noises…Just another chilly night on Earth.

Maybe Johanna was simply hearing things. She was a hyperactive kid. It would make sense for her imagination to be equally as wild. Still, It was better to be safe than sorry, so Garrus began another sweep of the camp. He patrolled the farthest edges of the compound, where the ruins ended and the reconstruction started.

Garrus always thought it was a little cruel to set up a damn orphanage directly in the shadow of some big, tall, rebuilt tower. It's like the local government _wanted_ to remind these kids of everything they'd lost. It's like it _wanted_ to shove its privilege in everyones' faces. For all the despicable things that council building harbored, a gang of looters wasn't one of them. The place was deathly still. The flurry of activity from this afternoon was long gone.

"Johanna really has to stop watching those scary vids before she goes to sleep." Garrus murmured as he headed back toward his tower. He was crossing the field that separated the council building from the orphanage when shots rang out, piercing the silence with their loud pops! Garrus ducked behind an old supply crate and peeked around the corner. He guessed Johanna was right after all.

He lifted his rifle's scope to his eye, looking for the gun toting culprits.

Even with the full moon, the dark made it hard to see. Yet there was no mistaking the figure that seemed to be walking toward him. It moved across the shadowy horizon in a broken sort of shuffle. It reminded him of the husks he'd seen when the Reapers were still around. A badly wounded looter, perhaps?

_Good_, he thought viciously. _Easier to drop._

His trigger finger itched. He was Garrus Vakarian. He could make this shot, darkness be damned. He could kill the bastard, dispose of the body, and be done with it in time to get a few hours' sleep. It was a solid plan, sure…But the noise would no doubt wake the kids and the last thing he needed was a bunch of panicked ten year olds asking him what happened. Stealth was the better option.

"Shame Krios isn't here," Garrus whispered to himself, an image of the empty eyed drell forming in his mind. "He could do this for me."

But Thane wasn't there. Thane was dead. Like Shepard. He didn't have a squad to back him up. Garrus had only himself. He could do this. All he had to do was wait until the looter got close enough, grab them, and snap their neck. Easy enough. It wasn't a perfectly timed shot to the head, but it was something. And it wouldn't scare the kids.

He spared another glance around the crate. The mysterious figure was meandering right toward him. What an idiot. This was Omega all over again. He wasn't even going to have to try to kill this looter.

Garrus sank into a crouch. Closer and closer the looter came, hobbling forward like a husk on ryncol. Spirits, this poor soul was pathetic. _A little bit more, now._ Garrus thought. _Just a few more steps and I'll finally get some sleep._

Garrus held off until he could see the tips of the looter's boots. That was when he made his move. His hands shot out, grabbing the looter by the leg and yanking them down hard to the ground. The looter grunted, flailing helplessly as Garrus dragged them behind the crate. They didn't stay helpless for long, however, and lashed out at him with their fists. They connected with his face on their first punch, a biotically enhanced hit that sent Garrus staggering back on his ass. His visor cracked and his vision blurred.

He could only just make out the looter's slim figure as they—she—stood up. Her biotics bloomed around her in a bright static. She looked like…a goddess…a really, really pissed off goddess. _Damn,_ Garrus thought dizzily. He felt himself begin to slip away. Whoever this was really knocked him good. _I should have taken the kill shot._

The woman limped toward him, her fists crackling at her sides. She crouched down and the biotics in her left hand fizzled as she reached out to touch his face. His _scars._ Garrus slumped against the crate. The woman was a blur on his subconsciousness. A beautiful, angry blur. Her skin was soft, so soft. Almost like…

"Shepard…" Garrus breathed. The realization came too late. He didn't even have time to enjoy it. He was dying, obviously. And, as it turned out, turian heaven was a lot like human heaven. Shepard was waiting for him. She wasn't at the bar. She was guiding him to it.


	7. Dead

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_Ahaha, I knew that cliffhanger on the last chapter would get some of you! Sorry. Anyway, here you go. THE MOMENT WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR. Or at least I know I've been waiting for it.

"You _punched_ him?" The doctor asked incredulously. "What were you doing out of the facility in the first place? It's your first day back, you need to rest."

Shepard didn't take her eyes off the turian. She managed to drag him to the council building's medical wing after he lost consciousness. The staff was horrified. "I couldn't sleep."

The doctor sighed. She glanced at the beeping monitors that were keeping the turian's vital signs, then back to Shepard. "So you went and knocked out a guard?"

"I was just going for a walk." Shepard explained. Her hand ached from delivering the blow and a sharp pain had blossomed in the back of her head. A side effect of the biotics. After having been dormant for so long, using them so suddenly was a bad idea. "And I saw a group of people over by that camp across the field. They were obviously up to no good and I wasn't about to let them do…whatever it was that they were going to do. So I took care of them."

"That's what he was for." The doctor gestured to the turian. "You simply can't get up and do the things you used to anymore. Not now. You've got to give your body time to heal. You were trapped in wreckage, stuck in a coma for—"

"Three months. I know. I was there." Shepard was getting agitated. She raked a hand through her tangled hair. "I'm not a kid, doctor. I'm not your science experiment. I know what I'm doing. I know what I can and can't handle."

Okay, that last part was a complete lie. She had no idea what her broken body could handle. Biotics were definitely off the table for now, if the headache was any indication. She was going to make it a point not to punch anymore turians for a while, too.

The doctor shook her head. She typed something on her datapad and shot Shepard a hard, stern glare. "You aren't my science experiment, Commander, but you are my patient and it is my responsibility to see you back to full health. No more late night walks. No more foolish antics. No more _punching._ You have _got_ to rest."

"I will," Shepard replied. Whether or not she actually would remained to be seen.

Exasperated, the doctor left the Commander and the turian to their own devices, the door swishing shut behind her. When she was gone, Shepard focused her full attention on the unconscious alien in the bed. She panicked in the field. She didn't know who he was. All she knew was that he was attacking her and that she needed to defend herself.

She regretted her rashness now that she realized. Garrus. This was Garrus. _Her_ Garrus, the one who kept her from drifting out to sea. The one who knew her name. The one who made her laugh, the one who made her smile. He was _the one_. And yet…Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. She should have been overjoyed to see him again, and she was….Sort of. She should have been overwhelmed by emotion, and she was…Sort of. The part of her that felt so strongly toward this turian was lost somewhere in the rubble of her fractured psyche. Flashes of him came to her occasionally. Little sound bites of a conversation they'd once had. The way he'd always stand near her on missions, the glint in his eyes when her name was brought up. She remembered those things, tiny slivers of information. The holograms helped, too, but even with all these little visions, the bigger picture still hadn't formed.

It was enormously frustrating, seeing this man and knowing she was supposed to feel _something_ toward him, but forgetting what that something was. He was a stranger and a friend all in one. Shepard didn't want the stranger. She wanted the friend. She _needed_ the friend. Loneliness wasn't something she felt often. It had been a constant companion as far back as she'd been able to remember. But she was lonely now. She was lonely and she couldn't do anything about it.

No one ever claimed recovery was easy. If they did, they were lying.

Shepard fidgeted in her seat. She didn't want to leave him alone, not when she was the one responsible for putting him in the position he was in. She was tired, sure, but not tired enough to abandon him. He needed the company, she needed the company…

Shepard reached back in the farthest recesses of her mind, searching for something, _anything_ to remember him by. What she found was an image of the two of them on the Normandy…They'd just gotten back from somewhere…She didn't know where, but….They were alone…Standing close…

The turian gasped, scaring Shepard from her retrieval attempt. Her hands curled in her lap and her heart beat fast against her ribcage. He was waking up. Shit. He was waking up and she had nothing to say to him. He'd be expecting something from her, something she wasn't sure she'd been able to give…Unless, he forgot her, too.

Shepard flinched at the thought. She didn't want that, she realized. She wanted him to remember her, even if she didn't remember him yet. That was a good sign, right? It meant that she recognized he was something special, someone worth fighting for.

Garrus groaned. Shepard watched, frozen, as he lifted a hand to his face.

"Ohhhh, that hurts." He muttered. He pushed himself up in the bed. "_Damn it._"

Shepard considered making a break for it, running away before he noticed she was there. They could do the whole reunion thing later, when he hurt less and when she remembered more. Yes, that sounded like a good idea. Maybe she could just—

"Shepard…Is that—Oh, I'm definitely dead."

Shepard stiffened underneath the scrutiny of his gaze. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do? Well, first things first…She looked up.

"You're not dead." She told him.

Garrus stared at her as though he'd seen a ghost. "No, but—_You_ are. You—You went up to that beam and—And the Citadel, it—You didn't come back."

"I'm back now?" She offered, smiling sheepishly. It was a stupid thing to say. He was obviously just as confused as she was.

Silence. Deafening, deafening silence.

Finally, after the longest pause of Shepard's life, Garrus moved. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his knees bumping into hers. Now that they were facing each other, _really_ facing each other, there was no going back. No running away. This was it. She had a lot of explaining to do.

"I don't remember a lot of things, Garrus." She whispered. She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. "I just—I remember the Citadel, I remember explosions and falling and crashing and I—"

"You're supposed to be _dead._" Garrus's hushed voice twisted in her like a knife. The way he emphasized it—_dead—_made her really want to be. "I know I told you to come back alive, but you and I both knew that wasn't going to happen. You were supposed to go off and save the entire damn galaxy and you were supposed to _die_."

Shepard pressed the palms of her hands to her eyes to keep the tears at bay. She wasn't going to cry. She never cried. She wouldn't, not in front of him…

"You were supposed to _die,_ damn it!" He choked. "I was prepared to lose you again! I knew what the stakes were and I knew one of us wasn't going to come out of it alive. I knew that and I wanted it to be me. But it wasn't me, it was _always_ going to be you and now you're not—"

"What do you want me to do, Garrus?" Shepard blurted angrily. A searing flash of rage forked through her like a lightning storm. Tears dribbled pathetically down her cheeks. She made no move to wipe them away. What was the point? "What do you want me to do? Die? Do you really want me to die? Do you want me to bring the damn Reapers back? Do you want them to kill me again? Do you _want that?"_

"No!" He shouted back, jumping to his feet. "That's the last thing I want! What I want is for this to be _real_. I want you to be real! And, right now, none of this can be real. You're dead, damn it! You're _dead _and I'm going to miss you every day and I'm _never_ going to—"

Something inside her snapped. No, "snapped" was too kind a word. Something inside her _exploded_. It blew up. It forced her out of her chair and into his arms. She seized his hands and pressed them to her tear stained cheeks.

"I'm _real_, Garrus." She whispered fiercely. "I'm _not dead._ I'm alive. I don't know how and I don't know why. I'm _just_ as confused as you are, but there is one thing in this world that I am _completely_ sure of, and it's this: I'm _alive_. I'm breathing. I'm _here._ And I'm _with you._ Damn it, Garrus, you have to—You have to believe me, I—"

The explosion fizzled. The more she spoke, the weaker the flame of anger became. All she wanted was for him to _know_…That's all…

"Shepard…" Garrus said. He was so close, so close…He wasn't that distant figure on edges of her consciousness anymore. He was here. And he was real. And he was alive.

And she was real. And she was here. And _she_ was alive.

Trembling, Shepard took his hands in hers and moved them to her waist. She stood on the tips of her toes, her forehead brushing his. His skin felt the same. After all this time and all these months, he still felt the same…He was here, he was real, he was alive….

He drew her to him, then, closing what little distance that remained between them. Shepard relished in this intimacy, this total lack of space. She loved the feeling of his touch, his skin. She loved his voice, the way he said her name…She loved…

"I love you." Garrus confessed. He tilted his head down, his mouth brushing her neck. He nipped the skin there, gently, so gently—Oh, she loved that too. "I love you, Shepard and I—You'd better not be lying to me, because if this is all a dream and you really are dead, I swear to every spirit in the Galaxy I'll storm whatever heaven you're in, whatever bar you picked, and I am going to—"

For the first time since she'd seen him, Shepard laughed. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed a kiss to his scars. "I'm real, Garrus. I promise."

* * *

When they awoke the next morning, tangled in each other's arms, Shepard remembered something. It rushed toward her like an overwhelming wave, crashed into her and took her breath away. He loved her. He loved her and she…

She loved him, too.


	8. The Daily Grind

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**_A shortish chapter that serves as foreshadowing for things to come. Very exciting things, mind you. Anyway, I'd like to thank each and every one of you for all your favorites and reviews and follows! It means the world to me! I wasn't expecting this thing to get this sort of reaction, but I'm glad it did. Even though it doesn't really have much of a plot (right now), I'm glad you guys like it!

Garrus felt as though he was living in a dream. What time he didn't spend guarding dozens upon dozens of kids from those who would wish them ill, he spent with Shepard. Part of him still couldn't believe that she was alive. It just didn't seem feasible. Shepard had been reluctant to share any details about what she'd been through (he didn't blame her), but from what he gathered, she and a chunk of the Citadel crash landed on a foreign planet. She'd been in a _coma_ for three whole months and when she woke up, she woke up alone, broken, and pinned underneath a giant piece of scrap metal.

If it had been anyone else, Garrus would have written them off as damaged beyond repair. But this was Shepard. Shepard, who defeated Saren and Sovereign. Shepard, who brought the Collectors to their knees. Shepard, who saved the entire galaxy from the greatest threat anyone had ever known. She'd died once, and all it did was piss her off. Dying twice would have shattered a lesser spirit. Not Shepard. She refused to fall apart and he refused to let her.

Together, Vakarian and Shepard lived out those early days in tentative caution. They were never more than a few minutes away from one another and Garrus had even taken up residence in Shepard's cabin a couple nights a week. He was there when she awoke from some horrible nightmare, gasping and panting for breath. Sometimes he wouldn't sleep at all, depending on how bad the dreams were. He'd simply sit in her cabin and read one of the many books she kept laying around and wait until the thrashing started.

She put on a brave face for the reporters and even for him, but Garrus knew better. Shepard wasn't shattered. She was fractured. And it would be a long time yet before she could feel truly whole again.

It'd been three weeks since their tearful reunion. Three weeks days since Shepard's spectacular arrival. Three weeks since she'd punched him in the face and very nearly catapulted him into death's arms. Three strange, quick, breathless, wonderful weeks. Shepard spent most of them doing "cognitive exercises" and physical therapy to regain her strength. Today, however, she decided to join him in his work.

"They lost their parents when the Reapers invaded? All of them?" She asked as they patrolled the ramshackle "recovery center." She had that look in her blue eyes again. That glazed, haunted stare. Garrus hated it.

In an attempt to cheer her up, he slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her close. "Yeah, but remember what I said in London? Right before you went off to save the galaxy?"

The doctor told him that asking Shepard if she remembered something was the first step in doing so. There were a few times when she did, but there were even more when she didn't. She had little to no memory of finding him on Omega, but she did remember how he got his scars, which only further proved his point that they drove her wild. She didn't remember tracking down Saren, but she did remember killing him. The Reapers, though…She remembered everything about them.

Shepard pressed her lips together in thought. A few of the kids stared at them as they walked by. Shepard's face had been incorporated into every vid, her name in every news feed. Her return had sent shockwaves throughout the recovering galaxy. If they hadn't known who she was before, they knew now.

"Babies, right?" Shepard said finally. She looked up at him, her mouth molded in the faintest of smiles. "Trurian-human babies? A lot of things may have changed since then and now, but I'm pretty sure biology still won't cooperate."

Garrus leaned down to murmur in her ear. Quietly, so the kids wouldn't hear. "Maybe not, but we should still try. You know, for old times' sake."

"You still have some steam to blow off?" She teased, smile lifting to a playful smirk.

Garrus laughed. Of all the things for her to remember, she had to remember _that._ He would've been embarrassed if he wasn't so relieved. She _remembered_. "Just a little."

Shepard tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. It was getting longer now that she wasn't restricted by military grooming standards. Garrus loved the way it shone in Earth's sun, the way it fluttered in the breeze, the way she tied it up in a messy bun when she was working. He loved her hair, her skin, her eyes, her mouth, her nose, her arms, her _everything_. It took him so long to realize that. Too long. He'd never be that stupid again.

"You're in luck, Vakarian." She leaned into his touch, resting her head on his upper arm. "I think I've got a little steam to blow off, too."

"Glad to hear it." Garrus replied, and he was…Mostly. There was something stirring inside him, though, something fluttery and light. Nervousness? He'd forgotten what it was like to feel nervous. Saren made him angry. Sidonis made him furious. The Reapers enraged him and losing Shepard nearly broke him. Instead of breaking, however, Garrus used his fury, wore it as armor so nothing would hurt him ever again. Unfortunately, he hadn't realized just how deep Shepard's death cut him. It tore a hole where his heart had once been, it infected him like a sickness. Losing her meant losing a part of himself in the process.

Now that she was back, his rage had ebbed, leaving room for lighter things. Intimate things. Things he hadn't thought about in…Months. He hoped he still remembered how to do them.

"You stayed here all this time?" Shepard had the good grace to chance the subject.

Garrus was grateful. He nodded. "Yeah."

"Why? Don't they need you on Palaven?"

He hadn't heard from anyone on Palaven in weeks. His father contacted him just as infrequently, his sister even less. They didn't exactly take his decision to stay on Earth as well as he'd hoped they would. When he first broke the news, his father accused him of "clinging onto the ghost of a dead woman" and "shirking his duties to his people." Garrus took the latter in stride. He'd never been a very good turian. But that first one…

His sister echoed their father's sentiments. She yelled at him through the static filled comm link, her voice loud and cruel. She didn't understand why he fell in love with Shepard in the first place. His father called their relationship "irresponsible." His sister just called him an idiot. All these negative reactions resulted in a shouting match and ended with a dead comm link.

Garrus hadn't heard from either of them since.

He didn't want to tell Shepard any of that right now. It would only upset her more. Hell, it'd definitely upset him. To know that the parents of your significant other hated you. So he answered the tough questions the only way he knew how: With deflecting humor.

"Oh, I figured Earth needed some industrious turian help. You know how we are. Always working to benefit the greater good. If you're a turian, that is. Besides, I've never been good at the whole 'adhering to the rules' thing. They won't miss me over there."

"Garrus," Shepard sounded like she was getting ready to launch into one of her lectures. "You don't need—"

"You're not going to be able to lecture me into going back." He stopped, turning to face her. He took her hands in his and squeezed tight. "You're stuck with me now. Sorry. There's no Shepard without Vakarian, remember?"

Recognition flickered across her concerned features. It took her a moment, but finally, she stood on the tips of her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. A real kiss, a lingering kiss, the kind of kiss only love could bring forth. If they hadn't been in public right now, oh the things he would have done…

"I remember." Shepard whispered, her mouth scarcely leaving his.

Dizzy with need, Garrus had to force himself to step back. "You're a damn tease, Commander. It's mean." He complained. And meant it.

Shepard began to walk away and Garrus found himself following her like a lovesick puppy. Maybe that was the reason why he'd stuck by her all this time. Love, not duty.

"I'm just getting a little practice in." She said over her shoulder, her eyes glittering mischievously. "Before our sparring session."

As they completed their rounds, the only thing Garrus could think about was their previous "sparring sessions." If he remembered correctly—and he was pretty sure he did because you simply couldn't forget something like that-…

He had reach, but she…

She had flexibility.


End file.
